Sabrina Carpenter turns scandal into spectacle with an album that’s equal parts disco glitter, dirty jokes, and pop-star domination.

Sabrina Carpenter has always thrived on being cheeky, but with Man’s Best Friend, she’s gone from wink-wink pop princess to full-blown cultural firestarter. Released on August 29, the album arrived with a cover that instantly broke the internet: Sabrina on all fours in a little black dress, her hair tugged by an unseen man. Within hours, social media lit up. Critics called it misogynistic, degrading, and even violent; Glasgow Women’s Aid publicly condemned it; and the discourse spiraled into whether Sabrina was setting feminism back fifty years. Her response? A casual lethal, “Y’all need to get out more.” Sabrina Carpenter doesn’t clutch pearls – she crafts controversy like it’s another instrument in her band.

The backlash could have been enough to swallow a lesser star whole, but Sabrina leaned right into it. On CBS Mornings, she explained the image wasn’t about submission but about choosing to give up control, embracing the messy humanness of vulnerability. In other words, it’s not a leash, it’s a metaphor. And just in case the pearl-clutchers didn’t get it, Sabrina doubled down by releasing alternate covers; one “God-approved” glam shot among them; that kept the buzz humming.

But here’s the thing: behind the scandal is an album that actually slaps. Man’s Best Friend is a campy, glitzy swirl of nu-disco, ABBA shimmer, and country-pop theatrics, held together by Sabrina’s razor-sharp humor. The lead single, “Manchild,” went straight to No. 1 in the US, UK, and Ireland, and for good reason; it’s disco country-kissed takedown of an immature love that’s as danceable as it is quotable. Elsewhere, she channels Dolly Parton via tounge-in-checl country sass, spins out ABB-esque harmonies, and lets Jack Antonoff’s production paint the whole thing with glossy, live-instrument sparkle. It’s not subtle, but subtle isn’t Sabrina’s brand.

Even the critics who rolled their eyes at the cover have admitted the music goes harder than expected. Pitchfork called her “witty, glam, flirtatious, and unapologetically self-aware.” The Guardian praised the lush complexity of her arrangements, and the Financial Times noted her raunchy comedic edge-even if some punchlines wobble. Basically, she’s turning objectification into satire, outrage into art, and sex jokes into Billboard hits. It’s less an album and more a pop-culture experiment that dares you to be in on the joke.

Not everyone is wagging their tails over Man’s Best Friend. While Sabrina defenders call it witty and camp, plenty of critics and fans argue it’s repetitive, underwhelming, and lacking punch. The New York Times, describes is as a “rush job” with “a repetition of themes that suggests a single idea viewed from multiple angles,” while The Telegraph said that although its packed with hooks, “none of them are particularly memorable.” On Reddit, fans called it a “wildly underwhelming follow up” where twelve songs blur into one, with verses that feel like recycled scraps of earlier tracks. Even some YouTube reviewers suggested the project suffers from “boring verse syndrome,” making parts of it feel stale. In short, a vocal chunk of listeners are convinced Sabrina has stayed too long in one lane.

But this story feels familiar. Ariana Grande’s Positions was met with the exact same complaints back in 2020; critics called it monotone, “all the songs sound virtually the same,” and even “a regression” compared to her earlier work. Ariana herself admitted the vibes on release were off, only for fans to later crown Positions as one of her most beloved, with tracks like “pov” and “34+35” aging into staples. That arc might just foreshadow what’s ahead for Sabrina: an album dismissed as safe and repetitive at first, but destined to be reappraised as clever, consistent, and maybe even ahead of its time once the backlash dust settles.

Of course, the backlash hasn’t let up. Social media is still divided between those who see the cover as feminist irony and those convinced she’s pandering to the male gaze. Sabrina, true to form, is trolling right back. When accused of only singing about sex, she fired off: “Those are the songs you made popular. Clearly, you love sex. You’re obsessed with it.” That’s the Carpenter difference; she knows the controversy is part of the spectacle, and she plays her role with a smirk that suggests she’s ten steps ahead.

So what’s the verdict? Man’s Best Friend is bold, brash, and a little bit bonkers. It’s an album that thrives on being messy and maximalist, a reminder that pop doesn’t have to be polite to be powerful. Whether you view it as feminist satire or tabloid bait, you can ignore it. And maybe that’s the whole point: Sabrina Carpenter isn’t just making music, she’s commanding the cultural conversation. Global pop star? Absolutely. But more than that, she’s the ringleader of her own circus, leash in hand, laughing while the world debates whether or not to bark along.